


Broken White Visits

by johnny cade (johnnycake)



Series: Switchblades and Leather [32]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnycake/pseuds/johnny%20cade
Summary: Dallas goes to visit Johnny in the hospital after Ponyboy and Two-Bit have left.





	Broken White Visits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bdbye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bdbye/gifts).



> i wish i'd put this in my big fic, but the idea didn't occur to me until now, so i hope y'all like this!! gifting this to my friend cause they posted on twitter they wanted this, so now it's a present <3

The thing Johnny hated the most about being in the hospital were the times the nurses would flip him onto his stomach so the burns on his back could air out. He hated it because of the mirror that was placed under the bed, so he could see whoever was speaking to him. It would have been one thing if the mirror were only there when it was needed, but it was there all the time and he hated having to stare at himself, see the burns on his neck, his face, see the oxygen tube running under his nose, see all the proof that he was slowly dying and would probably be dead before the night was over.

Once upon a time, Johnny wanted to die. He wanted to slit his wrists, hang himself, jump off a bridge, do _some_ thing to end the suffering that he’d been through since birth. Now that he was dying, that he might actually die, he didn’t want to die at all. He wanted to live, wanted to see how life could change and become good again. And, of course, now it looked like he would never get that chance.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit had been by to visit him earlier, but he’d passed out before they’d left. They’d been gone when he’d woken up and he guessed that the nurse had made them leave. He’d heard her arguing with them in the hallway before they’d come in, trying to discourage them from seeing him. It made him realize just how sick he was if the nurse was trying to keep him from having visitors. The only reason he’d gotten to see them was because the doctor had come by, telling them it was okay. But that just made him realize even more how ill he was: the doctor’s words had been, “He’s been asking for you. It can’t hurt.”

 _It can’t hurt_.

Johnny knew that meant it was already too late. They couldn’t save him. He was dying.

He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard. He couldn’t help thinking this was unfair. He saved a bunch of kids and now he was going to die for it.

It seemed there really was no true justice in the world.

Or was there?

He _had_ killed someone too. Maybe this was karma just coming back to bite him in the ass, killing him because he had killed. In which case, he couldn’t really argue with that logic. He deserved to pay for what he’d done to that Soc, even if it’d been in self-defense. He’d taken a life, he’d taken someone away from the world. He’d taken away a son, a boyfriend, a best friend. It didn’t matter what the Soc had done to him. He still had killed him. He still had made others suffer.

Maybe he did deserve to die for what he’d done.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at himself in the mirror below him and let out a sigh. He was a murderer. This was all his fault. There was no maybe about it. He _did_ deserve it. He’d done this to himself. He’d made his bed. Now he had to lie in it.

He heard a noise outside of his room and opened his eyes, shifting them to edge of the mirror. He couldn’t see anything beyond it, but he still tried to look, trying to see who might be trying to get in to see him now. He felt a spike of anxiety, fearing it might be his mother again, but then the voice shouted something clearly and he smiled.

“I don’t give a shit, I’m goin’ in anyway!”

He grinned. It was Dallas. Dallas had come to see him.

There was the sound of scuffling footsteps as Dallas jumped around the nurse to get into Johnny’s room. The nurse shouted something unintelligible at him before a third voice jointed in, this one belonging to the doctor who said something low that Johnny couldn’t hear, but Dallas must have gotten his own way because a moment later calmer footsteps came right up next to his bed and Johnny hear the creak of the white plastic chair that sat next to his bed as Dallas sat down, his grinning face coming into view as he did so.

“Hey Johnnycake!” Dallas said in a bright voice. “How you doin’?”

Johnny wasn’t sure how to answer that question without either lying or worrying Dally, so he asked a question of his own, “How’s your arm?”

Dally glanced at his arm, the bandages stuck out a little bit from beneath his denim jacket. He shrugged one shoulder and said, “It ain’t that bad. It’s a little sore, but nothin’ too bad. The doc said it probably won’t even scar that much.”

“Good,” Johnny said quietly. “I’m glad you and Pony turned out alright.”

Dally’s smile faltered, Johnny’s words reminding him of the reality of Johnny’s situation. He swallowed and asked, “So, uh, how you doin’? The doc say anythin’?”

Johnny didn’t want to go over with Dallas what he had already gone over with Ponyboy, but he felt he owed it to him to tell him the truth. “My back is broken,” he said softly. “I ain’t ever gonna walk again. Not even on crutches. Probably not even if I live and get surgery.” He didn’t add what else the doctor had told him: the strain of a broken back plus burns covering most of his body was probably going to be what killed him. And he _was_ going to die. The doctor hadn’t told him that yet, but he knew it was coming. He just couldn’t see how he could survive this – any of this. Not anymore.

“You’re gonna be fine, Johnny,” Dallas said firmly as though able to read Johnny’s thoughts. He didn’t look at Johnny as he said it and Johnny wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince by saying this. “You gotta be. You know the gang couldn’t get along without’cha. We need you. You’re the only thing keepin’ us all together.” Dallas was quiet for a long time, staring at the ground or maybe at his hands. Johnny couldn’t tell with just the mirror. Then he added in a voice barely audible. “ _I_ need you.”

Johnny didn’t know what to say to that.

He’d been in love with Dallas all his life and never told a single soul, though he had a feeling Ponyboy might’ve figured it out. Or maybe Darry or Sodapop. Maybe the whole gang had. It seemed to him obvious from the way he behaved towards Dallas, from the way he talked about him too. But to think that Dallas needed him too? That Dallas might, just _might_ , love him back? That sounded surreal, too good to be true. And he didn’t know how to reply to such a statement.

Finally, he swallowed hard and asked, “What’d happen to you if I died?” His own voice was also barely audible, barely more than a whisper. He wasn’t sure if that were from the lack of strength he had or from the fear of what Dallas might say.

Dally shrugged one shoulder again, still not looking at him as he said, “Dunno. Probably would kill myself. Or rob a store or somethin’ and get the cops to do it for me. Carry a loaded gun...or maybe an unloaded on just to spite ‘em. Let ‘em shoot me.”

The image alone made Johnny shudder.

How could he die knowing that?

But how could he think he had a say in whether he died or not to begin with?

He swallowed hard and asked, “How’d you save me? What happened? I don’t really remember it. Except bein’ in a lot of pain and then passin’ out.”

Dally was silent for a moment, still staring at the floor, before he finally said, “I heard you screamin’. Sounded like somethin’ outta a horror movie...from hell...or worse. So I ran back in, but the church came down on top of us then. I had to go through all the fallen beams and that’s when I found you under one. You were still screamin’. You were on fire. I dunno how I picked the beam up. Musta been adrenaline or somethin’. But I got it off you and carried you outta the church...or what was left of it anyway. You were already passed out. I passed out once I got out cause I’d inhaled too much smoke. When I woke up, I was next to you in an ambulance, watchin’ them stick needles in your arm to give you this clear stuff that they said would help all your burns.”

It was then Dallas finally looked up. He still didn’t look at Johnny, but he could see the look on his face and was surprised to see fear there. Dallas Winston? Afraid? What could make him look like that? Then his eyes shifted to Johnny’s face for the first time since the start of the conversation and he told him: “I been dreamin’ about it ever since. I keep hearin’ you scream, but when I run into the church you’re already dead, burned to a crisp.” He looked away again and Johnny could’ve sworn his eyes were wet. “But then I let the flames take me too. That’s when I wake up.”

Johnny tried to imagine it, a dream where Dallas got hurt and then died before him, and found very quickly that he didn’t want to. It made him wonder how Dallas had slept. It had only been one night, but the way he said it made it sound like it’d happened more than once. How many times had he tried to sleep in the past twenty-four hours only to be awoken by that nightmare of a dream? How many more times would it happen? He didn’t know.

He opened his mouth to say something, _any_ thing else, to change the subject, wipe the pained look off of Dally’s face, but then he heard another commotion outside of his room and this time when he recognized the voice, he took a sharp breath inward.

It was his mother. She’d come back.

“He’s my son!” she was shouting. “I have a right to see him! I don’t care what you say!”

“He doesn’t want to see you!” the nurse was shouting back. “We already went through this!”

There was another scuffle outside the door and Johnny watched as Dally turned, frowning and then stood, going over to whatever was going on. He heard him say, “Get the fuck out of here, you bitch. He doesn’t wanna see you. And you got _no_ right to see him. Not after what you’ve done.”

“What have _you_ ever done for him?!” his mother shouted in reply. “You ain’t clothed and fed his ungrateful little ass for the past sixteen years! You ain’t done nothin’ for him!”

“He’s done more for me than you!” Johnny shouted unable to contain himself. “He doesn’t beat me! He doesn’t hurt me! He doesn’t yell at me until I hurt myself! He doesn’t let –”

But that was as far as he got. Then, like he had earlier, he felt pain flash through him, white hot pain that took his breath away and turned his skin as white as the sheets he lay on. A moment later he fell unconscious, wondering if this would be how he died, wondering if he even had a chance to live, wondering if he would ever know.

And yet it didn’t seem to matter. He hurt all over and his body couldn’t take it.

Blackness took him and the world fell away once more.

**Author's Note:**

> i love requests so if any of y'all have any pls feel free to comment them below!! here's a page if you have any questions about what you can or can't request and what to expect: https://cptsdjohnnycade.tumblr.com/requestilies2345678901


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